It was three years after the Battle. Every year, May 2nd, they all gathered again for a round of butterbeer, most times it was something stronger.

Harry and Ginny had left, George and Angelina took a swig and headed out into the damp night, Charlie and Percy couldn't make it. Bill and Fleur sat across from Hermione and Ron; Fleur was shaking her silvery hair with her laughter, Ron's eyes were bright from staring at her, his mouth hadn't stopped smiling. Ron didn't want to stop drinking yet; he had a hard time knowing when he had enough. Bill didn't want to leave Ron knowing the state he would be in by the end of the night.

Hermione felt Bill's eyes on her and she looked away from Ron's half empty glass and caught his gaze. She smiled warily. Bill's eyebrows were pinched in the middle a little, his eyes were dark from the low light in the Three Broomsticks. His scars weren't detracting from his features as much as they used to.

She blinked and looked away to watch Fleur radiating her Veela-ness. She did this without trying whenever she had a certain amount to drink. Ron's laughing and subsequent drunken clumsiness churned something in Hermione's stomach and she felt suffocated for a second. Then it wasn't a second.

She stood up before she knew she was doing it and murmured she would be back. She forgot her jacket to protect herself from the chill but pushed desperately through the door and took a deep breath.
She turned left to get away from the entrance to the quiet loneliness of the alley. She hadn't noticed the pitter patter of the rain around her and didn't feel the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Hermione?"

She started and looked up. It was Bill. He held out his jacket and she hesitated a moment before inserting her arms into it. It was warm and smelled of something earthy which comforted her. Bill's hands lingered on her shoulders, pressing gently into them before letting go.

Hermione turned to watch him, his eyes never leaving her face and she abruptly looked away to the droplets hitting the puddles at her feet. She felt Bill's fingers brush at her cheeks and then he lifted her chin, dropping his hand quickly when he realised his reaction.

"It's ok, it's just the war trauma, you know?" Hermione said smiling weakly. She wiped the tears Bill had missed and actively tried to stop crying now that she knew she was.

"Hmm." Bill grunted in response. His eyes went far away for a second and refocused. "Yea, it's been rough. Seeing everyone has been great though."

"Therapy helps, Ron doesn't take it seriously." Hermione said, then realising Bill might not know what it was tried to explain. He said he understood and related it back to a branch of practicing magical medicine at St Mungo's.

"He's always like that around Fleur you know, don't take it personally." He said after a little silence.

Hermione smiled a watery smile and shrugged.

"He's like that when he drinks you mean?" She dropped her eyes again and fought the tightness in her chest. Bill moved toward her, his arms wrapping around her and she was warm against him in the cold rain, her hair smelling of parchment and ink. He pushed her to the wall and they huddled until she stopped trembling. Releasing her, he pushed his palms into the wet stone wall behind her, forming a barrier around her.

She looked up at him and their breath met in clouds between them, water was streaming down Bill's face in webs and Hermione brushed it away, but it continued anyway. Bills eyebrows, she had noticed, never once un-pinched itself, as though he were in pain somehow. She was aware of how close they were and that he hadn't pulled away from her after his hug.

A sudden thud and movement from Bill followed by a shout of anger made Hermione jump and fall back into the wall behind her. He had hit the wall with his fist in frustration.

"Dammit Hermione. You didn't' have to marry him." He said through his clenched teeth.

"Bill!" Fleur's voice rang out. And Bill stalked away leaving Hermione in his jacket, smelling of earth and drenched in confusion.

Hermione pointed her wand at Bill's jacket, a stream of warm air blasted from the end and filled the room with its scent. Ron was peacefully snoring away in the bedroom. When it was dry, she hung it on the far side of the room, out of sight, and snuggled into bed, the ache in her stomach now constricted her chest.

Hermione magicked the ink off her fingers and finally looked up from her paperwork. All the sounds that were drowned out in her concentration crowded into her thoughts and readied herself to leave. The house elves were finally getting some voices for their favour and she felt accomplished, but it was tiring work.

Smiling and saying goodbye to anyone who called her name, she walked to the floo network and disappeared in a flash of green flame. Glancing at the clock that resembled Mrs. Weasley's, Ron's hand was pointing at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes and she sighed. She had caught Ron modifying the clock to make Work and the Bar the same. He was most likely at the Leaky Cauldron; it was too late now for him to be at work.

Hermione unbuttoned one button of her shirt before Bill's jacket caught her eye. Snatching it, she turned on spot and thought, "Shell Cottage."

She didn't think for a second anyone would be there. She wanted to drop the jacket off without seeing Bill, it would be a year until she saw him again, and after last night's confusing interaction, she thought it was best to pretend it didn't happen. Her hair whipped loose from the bun she wore to work, salt water spraying onto her face through the breeze.

She pointed her wand at the locked front door, but it didn't work. She let out an exasperated cry and turned to stare at the beach, her mind racing. She didn't want to have to go to Fleur's and Bill's place. She didn't want to meet his eyes again.
She made one step forward before she heard a click behind her, the door unlocked, and her heart raced.

"Hermione?" he greeted her, the same tone he used last night. She turned suddenly and stuck her arm with his jacket out.

"Here. Thanks for letting me have it, I cleaned it for you." she said in a rushed breath.

"How'd you know I was here?" he asked.

"I-I didn't." she confessed, smiling a little.

"Ah, I see." he said, realising she had meant to avoid him. "Do you want to come in?"

He stepped aside, Shell Cottage stood invitingly behind him. Hermione passed him without hesitation, the sound of the ocean being significantly deafened once inside.

"Tea?" he suggested and Hermione nodded. The door clicked shut and her skin tingled.

She realised she had no coat to take off and sat on the edge of the chair around the dining table. Her ears pricked at the sound of Bill's movements in the kitchen.

"Where's Fleur?" Hermione asked, the words falling out of her mouth in a kind of eagerness she didn't understand.

"She's back in France!" Bill called from the kitchen. He came to the archway and held up a bottle of firewhiskey, suggesting a drink. Hermione nodded. She felt like her body was not her own.

The tea steamed in abandonment as they sipped on firewhiskey in silence for a minute. Bill hadn't sat across from her, he opted to sit next to her; they still were about a foot apart.

Bill reached for her one unbuttoned button, chuckling a little.

"What, did you come here mid getting undressed after work or something?" he asked, his eyes twinkling in the fireplace light. Hermione's cheeks reddened.

"I remembered I had your jacket and didn't want to keep it longer than I needed to." She retorted.

"I have other jackets, Hermione." He said in a tease.

"I didn't want to have it." She replied in a low voice.

"Why were you trying to avoid me?" he asked directly.

Hermione looked up and saw his eyes were again fixed on her. Her face was hardened in defiance. She was feeling annoyed with him all of a sudden. She felt his knee brush hers and it made her push her chair away from him a couple inches.

"I should go." She said standing abruptly. Bill's hand grabbed her wrist. It was a gentle grab, his hand easily wrapping around her wrist almost twice over. His skin felt rough.

"I'm sorry. Don't leave." He said quietly, the fireplace crackled loudly.

"Ron might be waiting for me –" she started, and when Bill cocked his head as though asking "Really?", she sat down again.

"You know you can come to me for anything, right? He's a shithead, my brother." Bill said, sipping the fire whiskey. Hermione smiled a small smile.

"We never really spoke before last night, Bill." Hermione reminded him.

"You're my family, you can expect I'd be there for my family." He explained. Hermione remained silent, she didn't want to go home, she didn't think she wanted to stay, so why didn't she try to leave again. Bill's fingertips met hers on the table, she didn't realise she fixed her eyes on her sleeve, a stray thread dancing a little in the draft from an open window. His fingers were intertwining with hers and she let him.

He leaned a little toward her, and when he inhaled he smiled. "You smell of parchment and ink, it's nice. A hint of salt." He brushed her hair back and tucked it behind her ear.

Hermione felt noticed. Bill was noticing her in a way Ron hadn't done since the Battle, and she had not known she was missing anything. She felt hungry for it, attention, recognition, anything that made her feel more than just "Ron's wife."

Bill was watching those thoughts cross her face and when she looked up, his lips had met hers and she opened her mouth and invited his tongue in. She felt his other hand balancing his body by grasping the edge of the chair between her legs and slid forward into his hand. He responded by finding her clit with his thumb and rubbed gently. She moaned into his mouth and he nipped at her tongue.

Crack!

Someone had apparated outside, and as quickly as they came together, they broke apart. Breathing heavily, Hermione rushed into the bathroom and left Bill to get the door.

She heard Fleur's voice float toward her, and Bill explained that Hermione was just returning his jacket when she asked about the two glasses of firewhiskey.

When Hermione returned to the dining room, she managed to plaster a pleasant smile onto her face and Fleur greeted her with her usual radiance and a kiss for each cheek.

"I was returning the jacket, didn't think anyone would be here." Hermione felt the need to explain.

"Of course!" Fleur beamed, "I'm glad Bill showed you some 'ospitality."

"I'll be going now," Hermione said to them both, then turning to Bill, "thank you for the firewhiskey."

He opened his arms for a hug, and slightly appalled, she sunk into his arms briefly and retreated, his fingers lingered on her hip. Something she would have never noticed before. One step out the front door, she spun on spot, met Bill's eyes as he stood behind Fleur and disaparated.